


Castiel's Road Trip To Nowhere

by IllBeYourDetonator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Castiel goes on a road trip, Castiel is a hermit, Dean teaches Castiel about music, M/M, Road Trips, Traveling the country, and new wave, rock music, this is mostly self indulgent, through Castiel, to write my road trip desires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllBeYourDetonator/pseuds/IllBeYourDetonator
Summary: He was nineteen years into a meaningless life when he realized this is not who he wanted to be.So he quit college, packed his bags, and hit the road with no intention of ever looking back. He wasn’t sure where he was going, what he was doing, or who exactly he had become, but in his eyes he had the whole world in front of him, and a story to write.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester





	1. DAY ONE

**Author's Note:**

> In which Castiel decides he is His Own Person and there is no stopping him.

The RV is a gift.

In his mother’s own words, “This is for occasional vacationing and camping trips.” He takes one look and does not intend to ever use it for such things. Keep in mind that at this point in Castiel’s journey he is a bit of a hermit. He ventures out only to go to class at the community college two blocks from his apartment, albeit nervously and with the cozy shield of his oversized bee hoodie, but otherwise he remains enclosed within the safety of his room, essentially hiding from human contact. 

Needless to say, his “people skills” are “rusty.”

The reason he has acquired such a gift is because it was his nineteenth birthday and his mother figured he could invite friends to go on vacations and camping trips with. Except the last time he had encountered a human, aside from gently floating by his classmates at the college, is when he dared to venture out to the coffee shop by his apartment and order a frappuccino in a stuttering, broken voice, his hands shaking over the drink, eyes wide and terrified as the barista asked him if he would like whipped cream. A minute nod, and then he could retreat very quickly back up to his apartment, trembling and vowing to never do that again.

So he is not about to go and invite people to go on long, extended trips with him in the RV.

Castiel does not know exactly what to do with the RV, mostly because it is a large vehicle and he is just a simple college student with a 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V that breaks down occasionally on the way to the college, with no suitable place to park anything larger than that, but also because he doesn’t intend to ever use it, so he sort of just wants it to disappear into thin air so he doesn’t have to deal with it. As it is, it remains at his mother’s house the next town over, overstaying its welcome and fueling Castiel’s mother’s frustration that Castiel never actually does anything, just sits around in his apartment all day not talking to people. Which is true, but the reasoning is not laziness, but rather a deep set sort of fear that even Castiel cannot explain.

It’s at his community college that he first gets the idea. His Sociology 101 class is usually monotonous and repetitive, hardly worth the hours of painstaking flashcard making and highlighting and excessive studying Castiel does every night (it’s not like he has much else to spend his time with, his calendar’s not exactly swamped), but today they are covering the gradual movement of civilizations and the effect it has on societies and an idea doesn’t so much as hit him in the head as develop into full-fledged with the gradual sluggishness of a rolling snowball, that he will move his own personal civilization, population one, around in his new RV all around the country. Start a new life. An extended, nomadic life; a reprieve from the incessant routine of his current one.

As soon as class lets out he marches up to the office, steeling himself for human interaction, and demands, in a voice trying so hard to sound rock solid but trembling with the grace of a small avalanche, to be unenrolled from the college. He is, after forcing himself through tortuous meetings with his advisor, the Financial Aid Office, and other tired looking individuals who have probably gone through the process with countless other students, those of which probably now work at the local convenience stores, struggling to get by with their meager credentials and sparse resumes. Castiel vows not to become one of them, simply because he could not handle an occupation that would require human interaction. It reminds him that he absolutely cannot tell his mother about his plans and certainly not his withdrawal from college, because she will absolutely sever his financial connections and leave him floundering in the adult world, forced into one of the aforementioned customer service occupations to survive. 

He drives his shitty Pimpmobile to his mother’s house shortly after flushing his education down the toilet, where he suffers through her light conversation about how school has been going.

“I am doing well,” Castiel says painstakingly, accepting the organic, gluten-free cookies she pushes into his hands. “Thank you.”

He escapes with the excuse that he has a time limit on the garage he says he’s intending to use to store the RV, which is, obviously, a blatant lie, which would normally be a problem for Castiel because he absolutely cannot lie, but his mother is so easily distracted and utterly oblivious that it works in Castiel’s favor and he peels out of the driveway in his new RV. Or. Maneuvers carefully anyway.

Castiel drives.

He awkwardly parks the RV on the curb by his apartment complex, ignoring the disgruntled passerby who now have to walk around his vehicle, a slightly different walk than their normal routines that is clearly too much to bear, and treks up the three stories to retrieve his meager belongings. He makes a note to call his landlord later when he’s far away on the road to let her know he will not be returning ever, so his apartment is now vacant. 

It takes him longer than he thought to pack up everything and transfer his belongings into his new home downstairs in the RV, mainly because, as a side effect of being a hermit, he owns a lot of things and never cleans out his belongings (selling things would involve speaking to people). His RV is fully furnished, so he doesn’t need to worry about his furniture, but he has an extensive collection of books and an alarming amount of blankets and pillows. His decorations are last, because there are so few of them. A small canvas drawing of a goldfinch, light grey curtains, a soft fleece throw for his couch. By the time he’s finished his RV is looking very homey and comfy, and Castiel is beyond pleased.

“Dude, you’re parked on the curb.”

Castiel looks up, eyes wide. There’s a guy standing in front of him, looking pissed. Castiel recognizes him from one of his classes. His name might be Uriel.

Castiel tries his best to make an apologetic face, but the guy keeps staring at him, gaze hard, and he says, “You deaf? I said you’re parked on the curb. Move or I’m calling the cops to tow your shit.”

A small sound of distress escapes him. “I-I’m sorry, I will- I can- please don’t-” His hands are shaking. The cops? They’ll take his RV away, and his plans will be ruined, and he still won’t have a job but now he won’t have an education or a home because all his things are in there, and neither he nor his family has the money to pay a fine like that, and-

“Hey,” the guy gives him a weird look that makes him want to cry for some reason. “Just move it and I won’t call the cops, okay? Don’t like, fucking freak out or anything.” And, muttered under his breath just loud enough to hear: “Freak.”

Castiel swallows and nods, backing away quickly. This. This is why he doesn’t talk to people. People are mean.

He hurries into the driver’s seat and gets the hell out of there, his entire home in tow. His neck is hot and his palms are sweaty and trembling.

Freak.

He’s just. He’s just shy, lots of people are shy, that doesn’t make him a freak.

But Castiel’s always been a bad liar.  
…  
The road is more boring than he thought. 

After he passed the town boundary line there has been nothing around for miles except dry underbrush and road. He’s tired of driving, he feels kind of in shock at his sudden life change, and he’s very much lost. He’s been playing the same album for five hours, a hazy, warbling punk rock band he felt more attune to in his high school years, but now it slides off his mind like oil, a vaguely angst-filled wailing that serves as background noise and a slight reprieve from the stifling silence of being alone. He owns no other CDs.

Castiel cannot figure out how to work the radio, either. There’s issues with programming (which isn’t actually that difficult, but forgive him, he was a hermit up until five hours ago, he only knows how to work the one station he had on his radio in his pimpmobile, and this fancy satellite radio is beyond him). When he attempts to turn it on, he gets half of an upbeat Spanish station and half white noise. He leaves it off.

He pulls over when it starts getting dark. He’s smack in the middle of nowhere, parked by the side of the road in the dirt, feeling slightly hopeless now that his euphoria at being free from his boring life has worn off. He had no further plan other than to get on the road and keep driving, and now that he’s completed that, he’s at a loss of what to do. Where to go. 

At least he’s alone.

There’s absolutely no one around and it is paradise for him. His normal levels of anxiety, even just sitting on the couch in the safety of his home, because the neighbors might be listening, or watching from the windows, or just because of the general proximity of the other tenants, are pretty high, a slight panic waiting in the back of his throat, a nagging feeling of unease at the corners of his mind. But here, far away from civilization and blessedly wrapped in the thick quiet of wilderness, under a sky untainted by pollution and stretching vast and very dark blue above him, he is finally at peace.

And so Castiel pushes aside the sour trace of doubt in his heart at his life changing decision and curls up in his bed at the back of the RV, dreaming about open roads and endless skies.


	2. DAY TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel unfortunately encounters people.

He wakes up and for a solid three seconds he has no idea what is going on. He’s not in his too-large fluffy bed but a smaller mattress shelf with only a thin blanket wrapped around him, and there’s a square of sunshine illuminating the area instead of being stifled by thick blackout curtains. It’s also very quiet.

Castiel shuffles down the narrow hall to his kitchenette, where he groggily makes a cup of coffee and digs a bagel out of the clean new fridge. He peers out the tiny window and his heart clenches as he takes in the empty, sprawling landscape of scraggly trees and dry grass and the vague silhouette of mountains on the horizon. Everything seems so possible now. Like he could walk outside and keep walking forever, his heart tugging him right over the edge of the world. The whole world is his home now. 

Castiel keeps driving.

It’s another couple hours until he reaches a small town, right on the edge of a larger city. He’s not sure if he feels like passing through there, but the town is welcome.

It’s a simple town, and he quickly finds a local supermarket, just big enough to have what he needs and small enough where he isn’t too worried about facing large crowds. He parks the RV in the parking lot, way in the back away from the other cars, and shrugs on his oversized beige trenchcoat, a sort of security blanket. He walks up to the store with his eyes cast down, trying to appear smaller, less of a target.

“Hi, welcome to-”

His eyes go wide and he rushes away from the employee waving from the entrance to the store, ducking his head. The worker laughs a little and Castiel wants to shrink into the earth. 

Fast. He’ll be fast. In and out and back to the safety of his RV.

Castiel is peering intently at the immense variety of cereal boxes on the shelves when he feels a slight tap on his shoulder. He nearly faints, but manages to just gasp a little and back away. The man who tapped him gives him a small smile.

“Sorry, man, just need to get by you,” the man says as he reaches over and grabs a box of Kellogg’s. “My brother’s into this healthy crap.”

Castiel cannot breathe. 

This man, this random man Castiel has never even met, is very, very attractive. Perfectly symmetrical face, brilliant green eyes, a constellation of freckles across the bridge of his cute nose. Self-consciousness claws at Castiel’s heart and he feels his face flush. “Sorry,” he whispers. The man straightens, cereal box in hand, and grins widely at him, flashing perfect white teeth. Castiel cannot breathe. 

“You’re fine, dude!”

He’s gone before Castiel can process his words, and his response dries up in his mouth. He rushes out of the store, feeling vaguely lightheaded, paying for his items as quickly as possible at the self checkout. As he’s leaving the employee in the entrance waves to him. “Have a good day!” 

Castiel yells out a strangled, “Yes!” and retreats, stumbling on the uneven gravel of the parking lot.

He is not having a good day.

He unloads his groceries into the RV’s small kitchen, feeling his heart calm in the silence of his vehicle, and a warmth settling over him as he inspects the three bottles of honey he had carefully purchased. They didn’t have Sourwood honey, which is what he would have liked, but they had the next best thing, Leatherwood honey, thankfully. Now that he is free from his old life, Castiel wonders if he might start a bee farm.

The cabinets in the RV are now full, as well as the small fridge, which is starting to make the RV feel more like a place he could actually live. His bedsheets and pillows are in a crumpled pile by the bed from when he had dumped his possessions in the vehicle abruptly, only a thin blanket actually lying on the mattress, and he goes over to straighten them out. He draws the curtains on the windows as he passes them, feeling a hot flush wash over him at the sight of the normal shoppers getting in their normal vehicles. They don’t notice him, but he somehow still feels that they’re all looking in. He wants to get out of here. What if the Very Attractive Man sees him? His breath catches in his throat at the thought. Oh god. He would die. 

He quickly makes himself some toast and honey, his shoulders tense, and eats at the small table by the kitchenette, his back straight as a board and his chewing methodical. He stares straight ahead, trying not to think.

Once he is finished, he washes his hands at the tiny sink even though he hadn’t managed to get any honey residue on his skin, and settles himself at the driver’s seat with the intent to keep driving for as long as it took to take him out of the proximity of civilization. He does not plan on seeing any humans until he has run out of supplies and it is absolutely necessary to return to society. At that moment, the pocket of his trenchcoat buzzes. 

His ringtone is a bee noise. What about it.

He digs his phone out of the pocket. “Hello.”

“Castiel!”

Castiel sighs. “Hello, Mom.”

“You got the RV to the storage place okay? I keep saying, you need a vacation. Now’s a good time for one, I think. Karen from work has a daughter-”

“I have college, Mom.”

“Oh, I know, I know, but this weekend maybe? Rent a nice lake house, and invite my friend Karen’s daughter Hannah, you know I keep saying you need more of a social life, and Hannah is a nice girl-” She continues for a full three minutes about everything from Hannah’s stellar grades to the casserole recipe she’s experimenting with, and eventually Castiel says, “I have another call on the line, Mom.”

“Oh! A friend of yours! Good! Well, don’t let me get in the way, love, I’m so happy for you! I always said you’d find your people one day, and I have to say, I was starting to doubt it for a bit, but thank goodness-”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye, sweetie, be safe out there, and I love you, call me soon, did you eat all of the cookies I made, what did you think, maybe I should’ve added more flour-”

Castiel ends the call, and closes his eyes to recover. Breathe, breathe. It’s a bit much. And now he has remembered he still needs to call his landlord. The good thing is that he will never see this man again, so he doesn’t have to worry too much about his judgement. Even as he thinks this though, he knows he will anyway.

The call is answered with a “Castiel? I don’t think you’ve ever called me before, hey, man.”

“Michael-” his throat closes up. Why can’t he talk? What was he going to say again? “Michael-”

On the other end there’s a rustle. “Hey, you okay? What’s up?”

His mouth opens and closes soundlessly. What was he going to say again, what was he going to say again. It’s so hot in here. “Michael, I- I left. I left. The apartment- the apartment is empty, I- I paid the rent. For the month.”

There’s a heavy silence on the other end, and Castiel waits in torture, holding his breath, his free hand crumbling the fabric of his trenchcoat in his lap violently. “Yeah, okay. Didn’t really expect that, especially from you, but hey. It’s cool. Thanks for calling. You’ve been a good tenant.”

Castiel breathes out in relief. “Thank you.”

“Bye, Castiel.”

“Bye,” he whispers, and hangs up.

Too much, his mind urges. Too much talking today, too many people. He needs to take about a week to recover, and then he may venture out to another store to restock supplies. 

Castiel finally starts the vehicle and drives out of the now mostly empty parking lot, turns on his headlights in the dimming twilight, and continues on the main road.


	3. DAY THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel settles back into his hermit nature.

He wakes up to the smell of sea salt, and his heart seizes. He emerges from his nest of a million blankets and pillows, eyes wide and as blue as the ocean that’s visible from the open window of the RV, churning in the early morning wind that’s ruffling his matted hair. Oh, that’s right, he parked on a beach. He peers curiously out the window, stepping out from his nest. The beach is clean and blissfully empty. The ocean is a vivid blue, and the sky is light and cold. The only sounds are the faint screeching of birds and the crash of the waves against the pale sand. Last night he had been so exhausted from the driving and the social interactions that he’d hardly noticed anything beyond the dark sea and the open shoreline, just simply parked, changed into his boxers and his bee hoodie, opened the window, and buried himself in blankets. But now there’s the entire ocean in front of him, and the sky, the sand, the mountain looming behind him. Everything’s crisp and so very real. He feels a bud of feeling curl in his heart, a deep contentment and peace settling in. Like before, his perpetual anxiety rolls off his shoulders, and he lifts his eyes to the horizon, his gaze strong.

He disregards further clothing and steps out of the RV in just the hoodie and shorts. It’s a bit chilly, but he’s soon distracted from that fact because there’s nothing around him, no one, and yet there’s everything around him. A whole world, and it’s all his. Sand in his toes, refreshing salt-kissed wind, the ocean pulling him in by his soul. It takes him a while to realize how wide he is smiling. 

He could live and die here, he realizes. He would be happy here.

Castiel sits right where he is, just collapses down cross-legged in the sand. Here his mind is clear, reality is fresh. He feels so happy, like he could fly, just take off into the horizon and soar above the waves. He never wants to leave.  
After about several hours, which feels like days, Castiel suddenly feels the chill on his bare skin beneath the fleece hoodie, and his lips are chapped. He returns inside and makes coffee and honey toast, which he eats primly, back board-straight, carefully chewing. Once he is finished eating and cleaning up, he stands at the back of the RV for a solid minute, contemplating what he should do next. He’s not a stranger to empty schedules: having absolutely no social plans other than class and grocery shopping (and sometimes not even that, now that door delivery was becoming more accessible), pretty much cleared his calendars. Though usually he would immerse himself in studying for the classes he was taking, and some subjects he wasn’t, burying himself in flashcards and binders and notebooks until the sun went down. Or he would cook, or read, or music.

He’s never tried to use his phone for anything beyond contacting the only three people whose numbers he has saved, his mother, his landlord, and his brother Gabriel. He’s seen people listening to earbuds connected to their devices, so maybe his device will have the same function.

Castiel taps curiously around the home screen. There’s an icon of a music note, which looks correct. But there are “no songs downloaded.” Do other phones have songs downloaded? Why does he not have any songs? Where can he obtain songs? 

Castiel is not one to give up, but after about two hours of searching through every possible feature on the device, from the weather app (he can just look outside, why does he need this) to the Notes app (which he types in: Obtain songs), he sighs, turns off his phone, and curls back in his blanket nest. The wind whistles loudly from the open window. Castiel lifts his head, peering at the view blearily, his hair fluffy and sticking up in different directions, and his heart falls at the sight of the thick thunderclouds rolling in from the direction of the sea. Would there be a flood, is he in danger. What about tides, does he need to worry about tides. He scrambles out of his nest, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Castiel gets in the driver’s seat and maneuvers the RV onto the opposite side of the main road, up against the mountainside, as far away from the shoreline as possible. He closes all the windows and draws the thin blinds again, jumping at the occasional crack of thunder. His hands seem to be shaking.

He is not scared of thunderstorms. He does wish he had better shelter, however.

Clap.

It’s so loud, and he feels so small under the large, menacing black clouds crowding above, and so maybe he is a little scared of thunderstorms.

Castiel latches all the windows, unplugs his toaster and the fridge so he’s not close to electricity, and at the third clap of thunder he gasps lightly, dives into his bed, and promptly buries himself in his blankets, trying to breathe and calm his racing heart. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, clenching his jaw. The RV is rattling in the wind. Rain pellets the roof and the sides, and though he can’t see the flashes of lightning splitting the sky, there are the never ending crashes of thunder that pound in his ears. Muffled with the blankets, but they are loud, and inescapable. His whole body is trembling now, and the storm is only getting worse. 

Clap.

Is he going to die.

Clap.

Is that the rain or the blood in his ears.

Clap.

Stop. Stop thinking. Just close your eyes, breathe, calm, calm. Don’t think about the wind screaming so close by, the ocean furious and wild, the darkness, the darkness. Think about.

Think about the road. The stars, the seas, the endless land, the freedom of the world void of people, all to himself. 

clap 

He thinks of how he dropped everything and ran. Just escaped from his life, his isolated bubble, and drove off into the sunset, like a complete badass, which he has never had any reason to call himself before now, the polar opposite of what he has identified as his entire life. He’s not the type of person to go seek out adventure, and certainly he does not bear the confidence to wipe his life clean and start over on the road. Or he hadn’t, before. He hasn’t thought too much about what exactly triggered everything. There was the idea formed in his sociology class. But he’s had ideas before, of marching down to Starbucks and suavely ordering a white chocolate mocha while simultaneously flirting with the hot barista, or joining into the conversations held at the back of class about the latest gossip (he’d say, “Hello,” and they’d all adopt him as their own). But by no means has he ever acted on those ideas. That’s what they remained. Ideas. Fantasies.

What made him make this idea a reality.

What happened that day.


	4. DAY ZERO

A day begins with the ring of your alarm clock.

Castiel’s day began with the ring of his doorbell, which for him is the equivalent of staring down the barrel of a loaded rifle waiting in terror and dread for your inevitable doom. 

This may seem like an exaggeration.

It is not.

After his initial feelings of confusion and panic, he calmed down enough to make it to his bathroom mirror, where he took one look and headed right back to the safety of his bedsheets. The knock came again, three sharp raps against the wood that drilled into his very skull. Alright, alright, he could do this. He was a grown adult, he could answer the damn door.

This time Castiel made it to the middle of the hall before the voice on the other side of the door said, “Castiel? Are you home?”

It was an improvement that he did not retreat hastily back to his room but rather stayed rooted to the middle of the hall, shaking with the effort. His eye twitched. His hands were curled into small white fists hugged tightly to his chest. 

“Castiel, I know you’re there. It’s Gabriel. Open up.”

Gabriel.

All the air left his lungs and he deflated like a popped balloon. Gabriel. A faint smile lifted to his face and he rushed to open the door.

And choked on his soul.

Gabriel pushed past him inside, hands in his pockets, hair swooped back like the douche he pretended to be, while Castiel stood in the doorway gaping at Gabriel’s companion.

His companion, who was several stories taller than Castiel, bigger shoulders, tanned skin, long, shiny hair. Muscular chest outlined by his thin white shirt. And it wasn’t so much that Castiel was facing an attractive stranger, but that this person was a stranger, and Castiel’s fragile heart and mind was not okay with that.

“Don’t worry, Sam, he’s just shy around strangers. Come in, he’ll get used to you soon enough.”

Castiel backed up against the far wall until he was a good six feet away from Sam, staring hard enough to burn holes in Sam’s skull. Sam smiled a little quizzically at him, but joined Gabriel by the kitchen table, letting the door close behind him. “Hey, Castiel. Gabe’s told me a lot about you.”

Castiel did not say anything, mostly because he physically could not, but also because he had nothing to say about that.

After a couple awkward beats, in which Sam stared expectantly and Gabriel stifled a laugh, Sam hesitated and added, “Well, Castiel, Gabe says you go to school at the local college? What do you study?”

Castiel stared a little longer before he realized he had been asked an actual question, and then his gaze dropped immediately to the floor. “Um.”

Gabriel was digging through his fridge. He held up a carton of milk, smirked, and then took a long swig. “He’s undecided. Already almost a sophomore in college but still has no interest in any of the subjects.” He capped the half gallon and slid it back into the fridge. “Castiel, tell Sam what you do study.”

The carpet was now in danger of being set on fire with the force of Castiel’s staring. He tried to hide his fidgeting, but subtle shaking and mild twitching were just as noticeable. Sam’s eyebrows creased in concern.

“I. I watch the bees.”

There was a pause, and then Gabriel laughed loudly, cracking the silence violently enough to make Castiel flinch. “Bees. Can you believe that? Not biology, not zoology, not any other animal but bees. We all thought it was just a phase, you know, the bee backpack in first grade, the bee hoodie he’s had since he was fifteen, the bee pillows. And the honey-”

“Gabe, hey.”

Castiel wanted to die. He could not see beyond the hazy wetness of the tears bubbling in his eyes, and he was so, so embarrassed, in front of this complete stranger, the only reason he even opened the door was because he just wanted his big brother, why was this happening. He loved bees, lots of people had things they loved, that wasn’t weird.

Gabriel finally noticed him. “Castiel? Shit, I’m sorry, was it what I said about bees? It’s cool, you know that, hell, I like bees. Save the bees. You know?” He came over and laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Or is it Sam? We can go somewhere else if you want, I just wanted you to meet him. Him and his brother are just passing through.”

Castiel blinked up Gabriel, swallowing, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks. “Why?”

Sam interjected, “We’re on a sort of road trip-”

“No,” Castiel said quickly, not looking away from Gabriel. “Why did you want me to meet him?”

Gabriel smirked, reaching for Sam’s hand to drag him closer. “He’s my boyfriend. He wanted to meet my wonderful little bro.”

Sam smiled warmly at Castiel. Something in his chest started to calm down, because he trusted his big brother more than anyone in the world, and if Gabriel trusted Sam, then so did Castiel. “Hi,” Castiel said nervously, dragging his eyes towards the general direction of Sam’s face. He was still wary of eye contact.

“Hi, Castiel, nice to meet you,” Sam said. “Sorry about before.”

Gabriel nudged Castiel. “Sam goes to Stanford. He’s a genius.”

“Well no,” Sam rolled his eyes, smiling, “And technically I don’t go there anymore. My brother and I are sort of on a road trip at the moment. For about two weeks now. I said I’m taking a gap year.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Why did you want to go on a road trip?”

A shrug. “It’s a long story. But hey, it’s the most interesting thing to happen to me in years, so can’t complain. It’s a little lonely, but I’ve got my brother, and we’ve met a lot of new people on the road so far.” Sam smiled at Gabriel.  
Gabriel bumped him on the shoulder in response. “You met me two years ago, you dick, you just didn’t realize my true magnificence until two weeks ago.” He leaned in conspiratorially to Castiel, “He’s a genius, but he’s not very bright.”

But Castiel had stopped paying attention to anything beyond “lonely.” The beginnings of an idea had taken root in his head, vague and abstract. Sam and Gabriel bantered back and forth for a while as Castiel drifted off to the kitchen to get water, or food, or something - he wasn’t sure, but he felt more comfortable in the kitchen than socialising with his brother’s boyfriend. Socialising at all, rather. He could still hear them, anyway, if they chose to speak to him. He hoped they wouldn’t.

“Yeah, he’s way more spontaneous than I am,” Sam was saying.

“He’s an impulsive moron, you mean?”

“Sometimes.”

Castiel did not know who they were talking about, but the idea of spontaneity made him cringe.

“Castiel’s very anti-spontaneity, look, he’s cringing.”

He flushed as Gabriel and Sam both turned to glance at him, his gaze flicking to his shoes. “I don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen.”

“I’m more of a planning type of guy, too,” Sam said. “My brother tells me it’s about the journey, the ‘finding out,’ the mystery, the adventure. He gives great speeches.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Enough about your brother, Sam.”

Castiel tuned out again, thinking about what planning meant to him. It’s not like he really made any plans. But if he absolutely had to go out and do something, he would like it to be scheduled to the minute, so he wouldn’t have to relive freshman year when he had his first and last birthday party and everyone stood around in confused silence for a good hour munching on pizza. He was so horrified and embarrassed - he had done a little research and assumed everyone would gradually begin the social gathering on their own, through chatter and light music, but instead everyone stared at the phones until Castiel forced out a meek, “You can leave if you want to.” No one had to be told twice.

He was never going to do anything like that again. He almost peed himself just opening the door to people now (this was not specifically due to the incident in freshman year. This was a gradual increase in social anxiety that had been building up since he was old enough to speak to others, and was only worsened by every social interaction he’s had since. The only reason he invited people to a party in the first place was to make his mother happy).

“I have class,” Castiel said softly, coming back to reality. Sam and Gabriel did not hear him, so he repeated himself, slightly louder. Gabriel, who was accustomed to Castiel’s quiet declarations, noticed and they exchanged vaguely awkward goodbyes. 

Before Gabriel followed Sam out the door, he peeked back inside quickly and said, “Spontaneity is good sometimes, Castiel. You of all the people I know need some adventure.”

Once they had left Castiel took those words to heart and ordered a lovely bee themed hammock, feeling a little thrill about leaving his comfort zone.


	5. DAY FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel’s silence buzzes, but not in the happy bee way.

Castiel emerges from his nest of blankets, blinking blearily at the yellow light leaking through the window. It’s over, the storm is over. He survived. He lets out a quiet little sob of relief, twisting his hands in the fabric of his blankets. He can actually do this.

Filled with renewed confidence at his ability to live alone on the road, he steps out of the RV, clothes rumpled, hair disheveled, a bee themed blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The rocks under his bare feet are damp and the air is a little wet, but those are the only signs that there had been a storm at all. The ocean is glimmering peacefully before him, pale blue and white, drifting with the slight, salty breeze. The sky is nearly the same color, void of clouds. Castiel takes a moment to breathe everything in. It smells a bit like salt and rain and freedom.

He inspects his RV, taking in the damp, slightly battered paint. There’s not much damage, which he thanks the heavens for, because he would not have the slightest idea how to fix it. He’s struck with the realization that he should have researched RV maintenance and upkeep before even rolling onto the road. He resolves to do so immediately.

But not right this second. He has business to attend to.

The quiet is usually welcome. Most of his life has been lacking in it, due to the unfortunate situation of city living. But the quiet is so loud. It buzzes in his ears, and not in the delightful, pleasant way of the honeybee, but like a nagging mosquito insistent on sucking him dry.

He considers turning on the punk rock CD again, but it always makes him restless and agitated, and he likes the current content, pleasant calm he’s feeling now. He messes with his phone a little more. His thumb hovers over his brother’s contact number for a moment, but he knows Gabriel’s taste in music is whatever’s in the top 100 hits of this year, so he hesitates. Although, Gabriel might know how to acquire music in general, and Castiel would definitely like that a lot more. He presses the call button.

“Little bro!” Gabriel answers immediately. Castiel moves back over to his bed, tucking his legs underneath him. “What’s up? Is there a person at your door you want me to chase away?”

Castiel stiffens. He had forgotten to tell him. “I’m. I’m on a road trip.”

There’s complete silence on the other end. This is alarming to Castiel, because it’s Gabriel.

“Gabriel.”

“You’re. You’re joking, right? What am I saying, you don’t joke. Castiel, what? How? Why? Since when?”

Castiel blinks. “I am not joking. I am on a road trip. Mom got me an RV. I wanted to. Since three days ago? But I have a question.”

Gabriel stutters gracelessly for a couple seconds, while Castiel waits patiently.

“Okay. Okay. Fine, you’re on a road trip,” Gabriel mutters, “Of course. Fine. ‘Who are you and what have you done to my little brother’ and all that. What’s your question?”

“How do I get music? On my phone?” Castiel wonders if he has to talk to people in order to acquire music. Does he need to call someone to get songs? Go into a music store? If so, he decides begrudgingly that maybe music isn’t all that necessary. He knows he’s lying to himself again though. He’s a really bad liar.

“You just install Spotify or something. On Google Play. But the road trip? I guess, how is it? I mean-”

“I don’t understand, what is Spotify?”

Gabriel spends the next hour impatiently coaching him through installing the Spotify app on his phone, and instructing him how to find and save songs. Castiel is feeling mildly overwhelmed but excited at the prospect of having something other than silence in his ears. He can listen to peaceful classical music by the waves. His heart swells at the thought.

But then Gabriel won’t let him hang up, because he wants to hear about this new life Castiel has, which Castiel cannot fathom why. “I told you, it’s a road trip because I wanted to be alone, that’s it.”

“Is it because you heard Sam and his brother are on a road trip? I didn’t even think that’d be something you’d like, Castiel, it involves leaving the house. Oh god, you did leave your house, right? You’re not on like a weird virtual road trip-”

“I left my house. I know what a road trip is,” Castiel snaps. Outside, the ocean is glittering and peaceful. He sighs in longing. “Thank you for your help, Gabriel, can I please go now?”

“Wait, we need to talk about this, does Mom know? Are you okay? I can come get you-”

“Gabriel.”

“Castiel, you can barely check your own mailbox. Are you sure you’re okay out there, living in the wild? What if someone kidnaps you, and you don’t like talking so you just go along and you can’t call for help because you’re an idiot and you just won’t-”

Castiel hangs up.

Gabriel and their mom are strikingly similar when it comes to how many words they can speak per second. They have so much voice between them, they seem to have gotten Castiel’s share.

Castiel ventures out back onto the beach, his bee blanket still wrapped snugly around his shoulders. The sun is higher in the sky now, it’s around noon, and the wind has slowed down. It’s a little too humid, actually, after the storm last night and the heat. He’s uncomfortable. He takes his phone with him down to the shoreline and sits, legs extended so that the waves gently lap no further than his ankles. He opens the Spotify app. He has no idea what to do next.

The cute cartoon bees on his blanket catch his eye. Of course, when in doubt, bees. He smiles and searches, “bee.”   
There are no bee songs that pop up. Instead, there’s the Bee Gees, which he is confused about, and Ludwig Van Beethoven. He listens to Fur Elise and Sonata No. 14 “Moonlight” for a while on repeat. 

The music drifts over the sparkling waves, the cloudless blue of the sky, the light dancing on the water. The air is suddenly very heavy, and his eyes start to close. He’s so sleepy. He lays back down on the sand, black hair spread out in a halo around his head as he stares up, blue filling his entire view, matched in the blue of his eyes, which close slowly. His phone drops by his side, piano notes still floating beside him, lulling him to sleep.

Castiel drifts off thinking about blue skies and dancers made of light performing on the waves.


	6. DAY FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel is kicked and also meets fellow nomads.

Castiel awakens to an abrupt, sharp pain in his ribs, and then another slightly lower in his side. He blinks quickly, struggling to comprehend what is going on. The sky is black above him, so he can’t see very well, but he can make out two black blobs standing above him, and their curious murmuring. People.

Castiel is suddenly very not okay.

He snaps up, scrambling backwards in the sand, gazing frantically up at the figures. They have stopped whispering, and are silent. He feels vaguely offended that he had been kicked, but mostly he’s mortified and stunned at the thought of people watching him sleep. Or really just people in general. Why were they here, this was supposed to be an empty beach far from civilization. 

His phone is now softly playing a pleasant song about honeybees, and he holds it close to his chest.

“Dude? You okay?”

One of the blobs approaches him hesitantly. Castiel backs away, his throat too closed up to speak. The other blob nudges the first blob. “We should leave him alone, he’s probably,” he leans in to whisper, “a druggie.”

Castiel recognizes the voice, and now that he thinks about it, he recognizes the tall frame and wide shoulders and long hair. “S-Sam?”

The pair of blobs are silent. The tall blob steps closer. “Castiel?”

“You know the druggie?”

Castiel is too flustered to be offended by the comment from the other blob, but he does manage to stand up and regain some dignity. There’s something about sitting while they’re standing that makes him feel like he’s cowering. He needn’t have bothered, though, because the two people still dwarf him. “Hello.”

“Hey, wow,” Sam says, possibly making a weird face, but Castiel cannot tell in the dark. “Castiel, I definitely did not expect you out here. I thought Gabe said you never leave your house.”

“I leave my house.” Castiel does feel mildly offended by this. To be fair, Gabriel has known Castiel forever, and even when he was a child Castiel would be anxious about simply going grocery shopping with their mom. 

The shorter of the blobs lifts his hands in a “what the heck” gesture. “Sam? Who is this guy?”

“It’s Gabriel’s little brother Castiel. I met him a few days ago, actually. Castiel, what are you doing out here?”

The other blob gestures to Castiel’s RV a little ways up the beach, the light in the vehicle illuminating a small circle in the dark. “Maybe we should go talk in there? Since there’s light? We only stopped by here because we thought you were a dead body, dude.”

Castiel stiffens (kind of like a dead body). “You would like to... Go into my RV?”

“If that’s okay,” Sam corrects.

A tiny, scared little voice in Castiel whispers, it’s not, it’s not, but this is Gabriel’s boyfriend, and he trusts Gabriel. He’s not sure if he trusts Sam or his brother, but if Gabriel does then they’re probably not murderers. Probably.

Oh, god, he really hopes not.

“Sure.” Castiel whips around and begins to march determinedly up to the RV. The brothers follow him in, and he turns to shut the door behind them. Castiel shuts off the faint honeybee music drifting from his phone. The light finally illuminates both blobs. There’s Sam, with his luscious hair and broad shoulders, and there’s his brother-  
Castiel is not sure what happens next, but he finds himself on the other side of the RV, pressed up against the wall, eyes blown wide, his heart trying to scramble its way out of his chest. He feels like he’s on fire.

“Dude?”

“You okay, man?”

Because Sam’s brother has brilliant green eyes, and a constellation of freckles across the bridge of his nose. And he’s horribly familiar. “Hey, aren’t you that guy I saw in the store the other day? Small world.”

Castiel is pressed against the window a few steps from the doorway where Sam and his brother stand, the windowsill digging into his back and the cold metal seeping through his bee blanket. Oh, and yet another thing, he’s wearing a bee blanket. His hair is probably a bird’s nest, harboring sand and maybe even a crab or two. He’s barefoot, he’s wearing a Talking Heads t-shirt from Goodwill and he’s never even heard one song, he’s socially broken inside so even if he wanted to talk, it probably wouldn’t be considered English-

“Castiel, breathe.”

He opens his eyes (he hadn’t even noticed he’d closed them). Sam is a lot closer now, but his eyes are wide and earnest, so that doesn’t scare Castiel as it normally would. Sam looks him over, concerned, and watches Castiel struggle to suck in air. Castiel pointedly does not look at Sam’s brother. “Castiel, this is Dean. He’s my big brother. You don’t have to be scared of him.”

Castiel blinks and nods. And then blinks and nods some more. After a few seconds of blinking and nodding he turns to Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s concerned face brightens into a grin, flashing startlingly white teeth and making his eyes sparkle green, and Castiel almost whimpers. “Hey, Cas! It’s nice to meet you!”

Sam smiles encouragingly. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Dean,” Castiel manages, trying to avoid eye contact. “Um.”

“Yeah, Sam and I were just driving by. There’s a small town a few miles to go so we’re going to stay there for the night. You’ve got a nice RV. Vacationing?” 

Castiel stares just over his shoulder with enough intensity to set his vehicle on fire. He shakes his head. “Road trip.”  
“Nice! Sam and I are on one, too. Where are you going?”

Castiel does not have a good answer for this. “Nowhere.”

His gaze slides away, down to his feet, and Sam hits Dean’s shoulder lightly.

“I think maybe we should go?” Sam looks at Castiel, but directs his question to Dean. He smiles apologetically. “Sorry for interrupting you, Castiel. Gabriel said you like to be alone.”

Castiel shifts his gaze to his bare feet. 

Dean nudges Sam, and Sam nudges him back right out the door. “Bye, Cas. Hey, I like your shirt! Road to Nowhere fits pretty well with your whole road trip thing.” Sam is shoving him out the door. “Bye!”

“Bye, Castiel,” Sam says, and closes the door. The RV is left in silence. There’s a muffled, fading conversation between the two as they walk back to their car, and a few seconds later an engine starts up and tires peel off the beach and back onto the road. The whole time, Castiel stands perfectly still and listens, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He did not once look Dean in the eyes, as per usual, but he had a feeling that if he did he would not be able to look away.

Castiel waits a little longer until the brothers are long gone, and then he sits on his bed, wrapping the bee blanket tighter around his shoulders, and turns on his phone.

In Spotify he searches, “Road to Nowhere.” David Byrne’s quavering voice drifts from the speakers.

He turns off the lights and curls in his nest, already feeling restless at having stayed at this beach for so long. He resolves to continue driving tomorrow morning, until he hits somewhere beautiful and new. He’ll find a new place every day. He won’t ever stop. Because he has no destination, just an overwhelming desire for a journey, and that’s what he came here for, what he erased his whole life for. He won’t stop until he’s happy, until he’s perfectly at peace, blissfully alone and free. Maybe that will take him his whole life, and he’ll spend his whole life on the road, searching, searching. Maybe the searching is the whole point, the happiness that will develop within his soul gradually, the stairway that will lead him to heaven.

“We’re on a road to paradise. Here we go, here we go.”


End file.
